


of fact and without opinion

by ryeden



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Gen, Tendershipping, can be interpreted as a relationship, if u like that kind of shit, ur messed up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 04:38:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1332157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryeden/pseuds/ryeden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryou doesn't have a weakness. </p><p>To have one would give the demon something to exploit, it would give him more power that Ryou thinks he doesn't really need. So Ryou merely lets himself stop it all. To stop the feeling; the meaning; to let life become one big area of black and white; of right and wrong; of fact and without opinion (because opinions are merely too intimate and personal, and with a demon inside of his mind he doesn't even know if he has an opinion anymore.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	of fact and without opinion

**Author's Note:**

> honestly this ship is one of my favourites, oh yeah slight tendershipping kind of it really depends on ur viewpoint  
> ummmm i just wanted to experiment ok bye

He tries, every time, to shut the demon out. To shake away the wrongness; because deep inside, he knows a part of him is breaking. Then he's smashing and distantly he hears the wrong, metallic bite of a laugh that's forced – and he's scuffed out like a cigarette, but still his mind is screaming that something's wrong here.

"Ryou," a croon. The demon says it mockingly, even, with an easy smile that says he's used to getting what he wants.  
"Go away."

A silence. Ryou knows that he should stop this insanity, this madness; of denying the demon of what he wants, because he knows it'll just hurt more with resistance.

The demon seems to enjoy this game. (Secretly, a more aware Ryou does too.)

"I don't want you anymore." The lie comes easily to his lips.

There's a sense of disappointment in the air, and soon the whispers build up and all Ryou can hear is – how dare you defy me – and Ryou knows that the demon is aware.

Curiosity is only natural.

He's been taking his time tearing down the paper walls that separates the demon's mind from his (painfully reminding himself that the demon is a part of him with a scream each time). Digging like a cellmate with a spoon against a floor of cement, he's finding his way through until he meets resistance and he's slammed out immediately.  
Every time, the demon reminds him that it's futile; that he'll find nothing; that looking within himself would provide more answers – and sometimes here the demon provides a threat, literally offering to show Ryou the insides of himself. Then the walls start to bend and Ryou feels sick, clutching at his stomach as the demon just laughs.

("Dance for me, my doll.")

Doll?

No, dolls can be mended and sewn back together.

He smiles; tugs his lips a little higher, makes his eyes look a little brighter.

He's putting on a show for this demon; letting him think he's in control.

All Ryou does is hold onto one piece of knowledge. There's something within this seemingly empty demon. Something he doesn't want Ryou to see.

And that itself gives Ryou a certain sort of power; a sway; a foothold against a wall made of smooth granite.

And so Ryou spends an immeasurable amount of time worming himself into the demon; folding into the crook of his hands, melding himself into the willing victim the demon wants. He's snaking in like poison, manipulating and taking the strings, smiling deviously like a puppeteer with a brand new marionette.

Ryou doesn't have a weakness.

To have one would give the demon something to exploit, it would give him more power that Ryou thinks he doesn't really need. So Ryou merely lets himself stop it all. To stop the feeling; the meaning; to let life become one big area of black and white; of right and wrong; of fact and without opinion (because opinions are merely too intimate and personal, and with a demon inside of his mind he doesn't even know if he has an opinion anymore.)

And eventually, with the demon cackling and laughing within the dusting, rotting and secretly-turning parts of his mind, the people stop seeing Ryou.

He is a faceless crowd personified; he escapes the notice of everyone; he becomes insignificant.

And he loves it, this lack of worth.

("Hey, did you see that kid with the white hair and brown eyes just a second ago?" A whisper. "Huh, it must've just been my imagination.")

So he flutters by crowds of people and those that he used to call friends, with his pale skin and white hair, his almond eyes a shade lighter and unburdened, a spring in his unacknowledged step.

He is but a ghost, accompanied by a phantom.


End file.
